


we do not barter trust for love

by heyoh



Category: Still Star-Crossed (TV)
Genre: Cunnilingus, Established Relationship, F/M, Post-Canon, Public Display of Affection
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-23
Updated: 2020-02-23
Packaged: 2021-02-18 07:13:50
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,264
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21840331
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/heyoh/pseuds/heyoh
Summary: Verona hard a remarkable ability to put on a show, Rosaline thought.
Relationships: Rosaline Capulet/Benvolio Montague
Comments: 10
Kudos: 101
Collections: Yuletide 2019





	we do not barter trust for love

**Author's Note:**

  * For [redbrunja](https://archiveofourown.org/users/redbrunja/gifts).



> Happy Yuletide!
> 
> Content Notes: very brief suggestion of adultery and subsequent rejection

.

Verona hard a remarkable ability to put on a show, Rosaline thought. It didn’t matter that the scars of the war with Mantua were freshly carved into the stones of the city and the men who had valiantly defended the city until reinforcements from Venice could arrive were not even cold in their graves. No, Verona, would still put all of that aside and pretend what really mattered was the ability of the lords of the city to gather together and congratulate themselves on a job well done.

No matter that few, if any, of them had covered themselves in glory in the actual fighting. In the end, it had been Isabella’s alliance and Livia’s unexpected return with vital information about Paris’ plans that had turned the tide. But congratulate themselves they did with an extravagant feast she tabulated would over-tax the already bare coffers of the city. What did it matter if the citizenry starved when they could feast and toast to their own survival? It made her stomach churn.

Rosaline had known her city and its society to be hiding a dark underbelly before—before the war, or Juliet and her tragic love, before Benvolio had upended her careful existence—the death of her parents and her precipitous fall in social standing was a harsh lesson that had ripped away any kindly notions about their goodness she might have harbored. She couldn’t decide if they had managed to sink even lower or if she could no longer ignore them as she once did. It was different when your life narrowed down to the day’s chores and the wild dream to see her sister restored to her rightful place. It didn’t matter what the lords of the city decided because none of it could touch her, so beneath their notice was she.

Now all of that was changed; daughter of one great house and the lady of another—she couldn’t get away from politicking if she tried. Only a few short months ago had she been surveying the guests at another party, who all hid daggers and plots behind their smiles, carried along by the prince’s demands and her uncle’s machinations that she marry, all the while feeling like all she wanted to do was tear out the perfect set of her hair and scream. At the injustice of not having a choice, of Juliet dying so young, of the world finding new cruelties to visit upon her. Rosaline suddenly felt the absence of her husband at her side keenly. 

_Her husband._

It was still surprising how those words could send a shiver of pleasure racing down her spine. Never did she think she’d say them, least of all by her own choosing, but when the dust had settled and Paris lay dead with his forces scattered, she and Benvolio had only one thought after each had satisfied themselves that the other was indeed whole and well. Or as about as whole and well as you could be after a war. In a private ceremony, with only her sister and Isabella for witnesses, with Rosaline still in the same plain dress she’d donned to help with the injured and Benvolio unshaven still in his bloodied shirt, they bound themselves to each other before God. They may have started inauspiciously, but now she couldn’t imagine a life without him.

Rosaline took a step away from the pillar where she had been hiding herself, but before she could cross the room to Benvolio, Prince Escalus stepped into her path. 

“My Lady Rosaline, you look very well this evening,” the Prince said, with a slight incline of his head. One arm was still in a sling, his shoulder recovering from the wound he’d sustained. Rosaline didn’t know when Escalus had become the Prince in her mind, but where once a smile from him, even from across the room could make her feel warm and like her heart was about to burst, now it only felt like a duty.

She curtseyed. “Your Grace.” Prince Escalus’ smile seemed to strain as she left it at cold formalities and did not bother to make an attempt at conversation. 

“This is a fine occasion, is it not?” he said, gesturing at the room. 

“I wonder that you spent the money on a feast, my lord, when it would have been better spent given to the widows of your soldiers,” she said, determined to keep her voice steady. Pleasant, even. Escalus coughed delicately into his fist and at least had the grace to look abashed. 

“Yes. Well. Appearances must be maintained. For the good of the city.”

“Appearances,” Rosaline repeated, unimpressed.

“You know what it’s like,” he said, his voice dropping as he stepped closer. He wasn’t much taller than she, but Rosaline suddenly felt ill-at-ease as the Prince loomed over her. “You married to show everyone that Verona was not broken. That its two greatest families could come together and look forward to a time of peace.”

Rosaline wanted to laugh. He may have known her once, but he could not claim to anymore. “Is that why I married?”

“But you must know,” he said, leaning in, conspiratorially, “married women have so much more freedom than unmarried ones. And appearances can be deceiving. No one would question if you came to the palace to visit my sister, for example. And it would be terrible of me not to see you when you did.”

He lifted a single finger and brushed it, gently, along her arm and in a flash Rosaline understood the implication behind his words. Prince Escalus had always been a handsome man, but in that moment Rosaline found him repulsive. She stood in frozen rage and horrified at the thought that she might betray her husband so easily and so quickly after their marriage and start an affair with the Prince. After everything they had gone through to finally be together, how _dare_ he?

Clearly taking her silence for some kind of agreement, he reached for her hand and brought it to his lips. 

“My lady,” Prince Escalus murmured and turned away.

Rosaline retreated to the relative safety of the column to steady her breathing and get her rage under control, lest she stab the Prince during dinner, but before she managed to take two steps Benvolio was there in front of her. She did not let him speak before grabbing for his goblet and taking a swig of wine. It did little to calm her. 

“What did he say to you?”

After taking in a deep breath and handing back his glass, Rosaline smiled at her husband. His worry so clearly written across his face, Rosaline shook her head.

“Only nonsense,” she said.

“If you say so, Capulet,” Benvolio said, placing a gentle kiss on the corner of her mouth and he might as well have said _I trust you_. He pulled away and tucked a lock of her hair behind her ear, letting his finger linger along the length of her neck. Where Prince Escalus’ touch had made her want to recoil, Rosaline leaned into Benvolio’s. She wished for all the world that this night could be over soon, and they could return to their home. Turning to take a drink from his glass, she watched his eyes follow Escalus as he crossed the room. “I do not trust our prince.”

He smiled that roguish smile that took up only half of his mouth and turned back to her. “Or, I do not trust our prince with my beautiful wife.”

“Then perhaps we ought to remind him we are newlyweds,” Rosaline said, her own smile turning impish as she reached out to draw Benvolio closer to her. 

“Him and all the assembled nobles of Verona and not a few from Venice and elsewhere,” he whispered into her ear. Benvolio’s hands began to wander from the curve of her waist around to daringly below the small of her back and Rosaline felt familiar rush that had very little to with the wine she’d drunk. She could feel the steady heat from those hands through the fine silk of her dress and wanted more.

She threw back her head and laughed, hoping it might draw Prince Escalus’ eye. “As if you mind.”

“Not all, Capulet. We know how well you like to see Verona’s well-set rules flaunted.”

Rosaline hummed and said with a smile, “That’s a lie, but I’ll allow it.”

With an exaggerated courtly bow, Benvolio straightened and said, taking her hand, “You are too benevolent, my lady. I must work to earn such favor.”

“And how do you propose to do that, my lord?”

Benvolio glanced around. She saw some emotion pass over his face and then it was gone. He faced her again and she knew they’d have time later to talk, but at this moment, she wanted to be doing very little talking.

“Well, certainly not here. Not unless we want to scandalize all of Verona.”

“Then lead on, my lord,” Rosaline said. She glanced over her shoulder and smirked as she noticed Prince Escalus’s attention on them. Let him see how much she loved her husband and let him wonder what might have been. In the case of her marriage to Benvolio, appearances did in fact match reality and she had no need of any company outside her marriage bed.

She was quite content, with Benvolio’s hand in hers. He led her through a side door, into a cool, dark passageway and as soon as they had made it through the door she pulled him to her and kissed him, unable to wait. Rosaline could taste the wine on his lips and felt his hands come up to cradle her face. She couldn’t help the shiver that passed through her. 

“Aren’t I supposed to be winning your favor, my lady? Do you always bestow it so willingly?” She knew Benvolio meant his words to be playful, but his radiant smile spoke the truth. It stilled her breath to see him look at her like that, even now.

“Only for you.”

Benvolio’s look turned heated and Rosaline smiled in anticipation as he grabbed for her hand and pulled her farther along the passageway. She could hear him mutter something under his breath and was about to tease what he’s said out of him, when Benvolio tugged her into an alcove and pushed her up against the cool, stone wall. The question and her breath were knocked from her breast and Rosaline, who had desperately wished for her husband a few moments ago, could suddenly feel all of him pressed along her front. They were nearly of a height and Rosaline’s eyes darted from Benvolio’s gaze to his mouth and back, undecided on where to focus on in the dim light from the corridor. 

Benvolio’s mouth turned up in a smirk before slowly moving in to claim another kiss, but stopped just shy of her lips. Rosaline whined and scrabbled for Benvolio’s hips, trying to bring them closer. 

“What are you doing?” she asked, breathily.

He caught her hands, placing a kiss on each set of knuckles, and dropped to his knees. From his position at her feet, Benvolio grinned up at her. “Earning my beloved’s favor.”

In an instant, Benvolio had rucked up her skirts and began kissing along the crest of her hip. Rosaline bit off a moan and her hand shot to Benvolio’s head. She knew how much he enjoyed this, the act and making her fall apart, forcing her to let go of all her careful control, and she could already feel herself grow slick with desire. He nipped the soft flesh of her thigh and Rosaline gave a shout and nearly cracked her head on the wall in surprise, abandoning all pretense of staying quiet. She _felt_ his answering grin and tightened the hand still caught in his hair briefly, silently demanding he tease her no more. Benvolio took the warning dutifully and licked into her, working one hand to her ass to pull her closer to his face and using the other to trace patterns along the skin of her leg. 

Rosaline shuddered, feeling caught between the wonderful heat pooling low in her stomach and the cool stone at her back. His tongue made thorough work of her folds. His fingers moved slowly, lightly, up the length her leg and entered her along with his tongue. Rosaline groaned in pleasure and reveled in feeling the pressure inside her build to a crescendo when Benvolio began sucking on that one spot in earnest, and then it was like a great wave overcoming her. She cried out, her fingers tightening reflexively in Benvolio’s hair. He was still nosing at her, the strokes of his tongue gentle when a moment before they had been determined and forceful. 

Rosaline felt as though she had just run through the streets of Verona and tried to calm her breath. Benvolio emerged from beneath the silks of her skirts and grinned as he wiped his mouth. Once he finished arranging her skirts, he stood up and leaned in for a kiss. Rosaline opened her mouth and drew him to her. His tongue was still musk from her and she savored the taste. 

Pulling back, she said, “You have certainly earned my favor, my lord.”

“Good,” Benvolio said. Then, with a mischievous grin, added, “Now. How can we make our reappearance as obvious as possible and make the wild with Prince envy?”

Rosaline threw her head back and laughed. Trust Benvolio to know exactly what she needed.

.


End file.
